


More Important

by Maxojir



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29752146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxojir/pseuds/Maxojir
Summary: A perpetually tired, ever-uncertain adoptive dad wakes up a bit late with his wife already gone to work, and worries over his little daughter.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	More Important

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about 3 years after my other stuff , which are usually loosely in the immediate post-movie timeframe, so I decided to post this separately.   
> Focused on recurring characters and concepts from prior works "After the Broadcast" and "Better Lives"

An obnoxious jingle of digital beeps forced Max to open his eyes again, for what was probably the second or third time. The lynx couldn’t even remember which. His ears twitched, repeatedly flicking their pointed tuft furs about as he reached a large paw up past his head to silence the device sitting on the nightstand. A few clacks from his claw tapping on the phone screen brought the sound procession to an end, and freed him to finally shut his eyes once again.

A few additional seconds passed until the truth began to make itself known that he did truly need to get up. Max’s head was quickly feeling less and less weighed down to the pillow beneath it, despite his wanting it to remain so, and he could feel wakefulness pooling into him like water flooding onto a sinking ship. He was still tired. He was always tired, but he had to get up.   
Even if he wanted to submit to his life-long exhaustion, he likely still would have gotten up anyways, because there was nothing to snuggle with anymore. Jamie was already up and out. He could tell, even without having taken any mind to what his eyes had either seen or not seen. There was no homely scent of jackal in his nose, no other source of warmth nearby other than his own, and no arms either wrapped around him or pulling his around her.

Max forced his lungs to empty as he raised himself, and took in a deep breath once he was sitting on the bed’s edge, trying to give his mind a jumping rush of oxygen. His now-functioning eyes confirmed his wife’s absence. She was almost definitely across the way at the small company building, taking care of stuff _he_ should be doing. Unless it was Thursday, which he then realized it was, which meant Skye would be coming to give the helicopter a maintenance check, in which case Jamie was probably out talking with her. 

Well, he finally _stood_ up, stretching and compressing random muscles for a moment to try and generate some more physical willpower. Once he felt he had enough, he moved from his spot, walking over to the wardrobe first and started changing from his sleepware into one of his uniforms. Old BDU camo attire: his own personal choice for their small, militarized security firm. Though, in reality they’d somewhat become a multi-service firm. Camo pants first, then the plain brown shirt that went under the jacket. He held off on the jacket itself though, not wanting to wear anything long-sleeved while handling food. If Jamie had left early, then he’d have to make breakfast for both himself and Rebekah before doing anything else.

A glance over at the room’s lone window revealed a slightly higher angle than he expected to the thin slivers of sunlight coming in between the shut blinds. An instant chill crept into his system with the realization that it was later than he thought. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand to check the time . . . and it was already nine! He had to have silenced that thing more times than he’d assumed. Rebekah almost always woke up just before eight, when he should have, and she needed to have her insulin and breakfast within an hour and a half of getting up.

Max flung the door open and would have rushed into a run if their daughter’s door wasn’t directly across from their own. The cold sensation had now disappeared, and in its place it felt like his blood was standing still as he stood outside her door.

“Rebekah?” He asked loudly, knocking rapidly. 

A few seconds passed without any sudden sound. She was a lynx as well though, so he knew he wouldn’t hear her footsteps anyways, but every second that passed still brought on greater concern and apprehension. He was just about to call and knock again, but then his fears were abated.

The handle turned, and the door opened inward, revealing the silver-furred face of a nine-year-old little lynx girl looking back up at him with violet eyes.

She was ok . . .

Max put his paw up against the door to relieve Rebekah of the effort, as she struggled somewhat with the weight of it. She let go and took a step back once he had taken over, staring up with the attentive face she’d developed over the months she’d been with them. There was still some visible uncertainty about her sometimes, but it was a fair step away from the perpetually sad and pensive look she’d worn when they first saw her. But she’d spent most of her life, and the entire portion she could remember, in the orphan care system, on top of being a diabetic child. It was unpleasant but common knowledge that medical ailments and orphan care didn’t blend well together.

“Were you already up?” Max asked, even though he could already tell as much.

Rebekah nodded. “I woke up at eight.” She said quietly like she always did, turning right after and walking back over to sit on her bed as Max came in.

“I told you if you ever get up and I don’t knock soon enough to press the wakeup button we gave you.” Max reminded her, immediately going right to the tiny, lockable fridge and taking out a new insulin pen.

“I didn’t wanna make you wake up.” Rebekah told him, some worry beginning to bring her face down. “Mom says you’re always tired.”

Well, if Max’s heart _had_ to fall through the floor from guilt and truth . . .

“I am always tired.” He wasn’t going to lie, taking one of her glucose meters out as well before going over to kneel down in front of her. “But you’re more important.” He told another line of truth, with all seriousness. He desperately hoped it was at least soft enough as well, but he wasn’t as certain of that as he’d like to be. He’d always doubted he could even _do_ emotions in general all that well.

Rebekah looked unsure . . . and guilty. 

Exactly how he didn’t want her to feel . . .

“I don’t wanna bother you like I always bothered them.” She told him, holding out her hand for him to take.

Doing emotions as a whole probably wasn’t the best problem descriptor. Max certainly _felt_ them with no issue, even to extremes. “It’s not the same as it was there.” He tried to explain things as best as he could imagine, as he had done before. “We’re not gonna be annoyed because you come to remind us it’s time, we’re going to get scared if you don’t.” 

Rebekah looked as if she almost couldn’t believe the idea for a second.

“You know this isn’t like back there, right?” He asked, finally taking a gentle hold on her wrist. “We want you to be here.”

From the stilled expression on her little nine-year-old face, it was either just a hard truth for her to believe after all of her short life up to that point, or Max was failing.

“It’s my fault if I don’t make you feel like it.” He tried to divert the guilt she felt in her mind over to himself, where he knew it obviously belonged. He paused for a second to select one of her fingers. “I can’t even smile.” The self-condemning comment slipped out.

“You do smile.” Rebekah actually corrected him, drawing his eyes back to hers.

Finally there was some helium in his heart to counteract the lead. “Maybe I smile and only you can see it.” He admitted for her sake.

“Like right now.” She said.

Was he really?

“It’s always a tiny happy smile.” Rebekah added. 

Apparently he must have been, even just as a reaction to her initial correction. He had to focus right then though, actually selecting a digit to use. One always stood out on her left paw, a particular finger with some bit of missing and ill-growing fur at its end point. Whether it was the same staff member or a different number of them over time, it was painfully obvious they had been pricking the end of the same finger in almost the same spot for her readings every single time. He moved that one aside with his thumb and parted a tiny bit of fur on another with his claw. 

Rebekah never even flinched, not anymore. Her ears twitched like any feline’s would, but apart from that she made no movement whatsoever at the sudden prick when the tiny drawing needle struck her finger. 

Max ever-so-gently pressed the exposed strip of the instrument down onto the minuscule droplet of blood for it to absorb and read.

“You always smile when mom hugs you to death.” Rebekah said, even putting a cute bit of emphasis onto those last two words . . . and now smiling herself.

That time . . . Max knew he actually was. “You can’t _not_ smile when that happens.” He agreed.

“She hugs me a lot more soft.” She said, as her dad waited for the machine’s answer.

“You’re little.” He told her. “You still need to breathe.”

“Can you breathe when she hugs you?” Natural childish curiosity had to drive her.

Max felt just the slightest grin coming upon him again. “No.” He admitted.

Rebekah snickered, to her dad’s surprise, and the unexpected continuation of the happier demeanor he thought would only last a moment.

He made himself look back down to check the completed reading, and started adjusting the pen dosage accordingly. But, there was of course one other factor. “What did you want for breakfast?” He asked her.

The nearly-ten-year-old fell back into a look of cautious uncertainty again. She hesitated to answer for a moment, and even looked down and away for a few seconds.

Max waited, and eventually spoke up again. He hoped it would assure her, but his own lack of confidence in his ability to outwardly present the likeness of a caring parent remained. “If you want something special you can ask. You don’t have to be afraid to, we just have to be careful.”

She returned to looking at him again for another couple seconds before she finally did ask. “I liked when you made french toast. Can we have some?”

“Yeah.” He promised. “You just have to have a little bit of something else with it, and you can’t have too much syrup.”

“I know.” She acknowledged.

Max made a final adjustment to the insulin pen’s dosage, and Rebekah lifted up her arm without a word. Her eyelids twitched at the moment of the injection, dropping half way to closed and then rising open again at a third of the speed. He had to wonder whether she was just used to it in general, or whether it was a lesser reaction after having it done without real care by so many different mammals for so long. But, just as he was finished, she broke that line of thought.

“Do you like hugs?” Rebekah asked.

Max put the pen and meter away before he answered. “Only from special mammals.” He told the truth. “And yes, you are one.” He was aware enough to answer the obvious question before it came.

As much as it could, which was certainly more than when they’d first brought her home, Rebekah’s face brightened up at the answer to what she would have asked. She reached out her arms, and when her dad raised his own in return, she leaned forward to wrap them around his neck. As he pulled her in to hug her back, she ended up slipping down from the bed and dropping from hugging him around the neck to re-hugging him around his torso. He kept one arm around her, and brought his other paw up gently against the back of her head for as long as she kept clinging on. It absolutely wasn’t the first hug between he and her, although those with her mother had been more frequent, but it seemed more than obvious enough that it was Rebekah’s happiest.

“Come on.” He said, once she seemed willing to let go. “We’ve gotta make sure your food’s still timed right enough. You can bring your screen if you want.” 

She grabbed the little tablet they had gotten for her and followed him out as they went downstairs. 

It was something they’d gotten as soon as they brought her home, and had a simple timer software set in to keep it from being able to be turned on between certain hours, just in case. But she’d never tried to stay up beyond the times they’d set anyways, granted that came with its own weight on them as well, since they both knew she would almost certainly be too afraid to ask anyways. It held a few games, and access to a lot of programs. Some were learning, some were cartoons, and some were a bit unique. He and Jamie made sure they were never graphically detailed ones, but Rebekah had begun to like watching military documentaries of various kinds, whether more recent items, or more often huge events of the past like The War for the World. The interest seemed to be one of attachment, as it had only arisen after they’d brought her home and she’d spent since her first month or so with her new parents and everyone they worked with all being dressed like “army mammals”.

While Max made their breakfast and Rebekah waited, she resumed watching one they had started with her the previous night. And, since they were alone in the building’s shared kitchen, apart from the light searing sound coming from the to-become French toast in one pan and eggs in another, the narrating voice was the only dominant sound in the large room.

_“—and upon that late spring morning, forty-thousand Howlstrian Empire troops, front-lead by thirteen-hundred tanks were ferried in rapid landing vessels across the channel to the southern shores of the greater island of the Ewe Cay. Harsh bombing and strafing runs over the prior day and previous night by Howlstrian aircraft, had crippled the coastal defenses in several key areas.”_

Narration gave way to recorded explosions, anti-aircraft fire and the low whines of old propeller fighters diving fast. Meanwhile the sizzling of French toast and eggs soon ceded itself to the absence of such, and then briefly to the sound of running water as Max filled the pans to soak in the sink.

Rebekah was sitting at one of the two tables, the one closer to the pair of fridges. They were lengthwise dinner tables, of a roughly average size for medium mammals. They were only plain, polished wood; no covers or patterns, and each having a moveable seating bench on either side in place of regular chairs. Everyone in the building had their own mini-fridges in their own living units, but the kitchen also had two large fridges they kept filled with sharable things like several bottles of ketchup, always a few dozen eggs, and a number of other things. Three ovens were enjoined with the counter along one wall, two with stovetops, along with two double-sinks, a dishwasher, a blender, a pair of toasters and more than enough cupboards. 

Everyone in the building was either an employee, spouse, or child of an employee of the Nuclear Plant or of Final Alliance, Max and Jamie’s firm. It was a personnel residency compound created for convenience. No employee from either set was required to live there, but the option was always open, as the plant and accompanying buildings were at the most western edge of the industrial district, some bit of distance from the city heart, especially on any bad traffic day. It was actually a nice, quiet place, and everyone among of the small pawful of them that lived in it were either colleagues or even close enough friends. Ultimately it left Max feeling much better having Rebekah with them here than he would if they lived in some ordinary place or apartment.

His daughter was already looking to him as he brought their breakfast over, with reserved or calm excitement, if there were a proper way to say such a thing. Apparently, she was also holding some curiosity too, as she had a question for him as soon he’d sat down next to her.

“What’s a spectacle?” She asked, watching him pour just the amount of syrup she was allowed while she waited.

“Which one?” Max asked in turn, capping the syrup after pouring his own as well.

Rebekah had asked about words that had multiple meanings before, so she knew what he meant. “This one.” She answered, tapping her paused documentary back several seconds with one paw while she took up her first bite with the other.

The narration and footage resumed.

_“—eatly. However, the losses taken by the Howlstrian air forces during the operation would later work to the benefit of the Sovicat Union, when they eventually launched the grand spectacle that was to come less than a year later.”_

Rebekah tapped the screen with her little claw and brought it to pause. She forked up a second bite of food and looked up to her dad once again.

“Something amazing.” Max answered the initial question.

Rebekah took the route most children probably wouldn’t have, and did wait until she was done chewing before she spoke up again. “Like how good French toast tastes?” 

Max shook his head lightly while he finished his own bite. “Something you don’t believe happened when you see it.” He answered.

She took another bite and seemed to think for minute.

It looked like, at least to Max, she wasn’t really trying to think of something. She knew, he thought, what was already in her mind. She was just thinking over whether she should say it.

“Like you and Mom coming to get me?” She suggested her adoption as something unbelievable.

Now . . . it was time for uncertainty. And it wasn’t the child at the table who was rendered uncertain this time. Max . . . really wasn’t sure what the _proper_ answer to that should be, or if there even could be one. He knew he had to at least give her an answer, but . . .

“No.” His trepidation remained internalized like always, and his voice was kept mild and level as he chose an answer. “We were always coming to get you.”

Rebekah held off from forking another piece of food, still looking up at Max and seemingly unsure of how exactly he’d meant what he said. “Would you come back and get me again?” She asked.

Max just as much wasn’t sure how she meant her own question. But, he still gave what he hoped was a good enough answer. “If we had to.” He answered. “You’re not going back there though.”

“Even if you get too tired?” She asked, with the reality that she had been thinking about such leaking out with her voice.

If there were any particular spots of guilt to strike at for the most damage, that was definitely one for Max. At least instead of turning into a brick of lead, this time his heart just felt like it was filling with an expanding cluster of spiked tacks. “Rebekah,” he knew he sounded more serious, but he still tried to remain close to whatever his version of soft was, “I’ve always been always tired. Nothing can make me any more tired.” He knew what else he wanted, or rather needed to say, but he had to take a second to suppress the fear that he wouldn’t sound genuine, no matter how much he really was. “Having you with us only makes me want to be awake more.”

She stared back up at him for a few seconds, soft little violet eyes displaying the childish vulnerability he was perpetually afraid of mishandling. But, she soon revealed he hadn’t. Rebekah gently grabbed ahold of her dad, unable to hug him entirely around from the side and so settling for wrapping around his arm. 

It wasn’t what he had expected, so Max did freeze for a brief instant. But after that instant had passed, he reached his free arm over from his other side to place a large paw aside her shoulder.

“Rebekah,” he eventually said, waiting until she partially let go to look up at him again, “you need to eat.” He reminded her.

“Sorry.” She said, letting go and turning back to her food.

“Don’t say sorry.” Max responded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I made you scared?” She questioned just before taking up another bite again.

If Max ever had to admit anything was truly cute or adorable, it was going to be his grey-furred daughter looking up at him with all the attentiveness in the world while chewing her little mouthful of breakfast. Her ears even occasionally twitched and flicked about as she was eating, a primitive, unconscious and instinctual reflex that wouldn’t normally become subdued until early adolescence.

“But you’re not trying to make me scared.” He told her what he had several times before, hoping it would sink its way in eventually. “You don’t want me to be scared.” 

She seemed to know, or at least believe that he meant his second set of words as a question, so she shook her head.

And Max was left unable to avoid a smile, no matter how small it may have been.

***

The two of them returned upstairs to their unit afterwards so Max could put his uniform jacket on, and Rebekah could collect a few snacks in her collapsible lunch bag before they left. They were still making decisions regarding her school arrangements, so for the time being she came with her parents to work during the day. It wasn’t an ordeal, as their security firm’s operating building was merely across the way by the eastern fence, a two-minute walk if one was feeling slow. Apart from mostly dealing with the firm’s office work nowadays, he and Jamie were mainly helicopter pilots. On days when the helicopter had been chartered and they had to fly, for whatever length of time it was they would leave Rebekah with their most trusted friends. A pair of wolves named Sarah and Tobias who were also their colleagues and employees. Tobias was already a quiet, understanding wolf by nature, and Sarah was pre-emptively becoming motherly as those two wanted to have their own children relatively soon.

Now, they were on their way out, just coming down through the shared ‘community room’ that laid inside the building’s entrance. It held a Pool table off on one side, a couch, chairs and large television on the other, plus a pair of vending machines in one corner with assorted recycling bins against the wall next to them. They were just passing by the Pool table when Jamie suddenly returned inside, carrying a small, paperclipped stack of maintenance sheets in one paw.

Such a sweet and lovely jackal. Max hadn’t always thought as much, or in better words he hadn’t always thought _about_ as much until he’d finally stopped trying to keep her away after the first two years they knew each other for. And now it had been six years since he’d finally made that decision. Her fur was snuggly soft, and a lightened, golden brown, like the hue of cookies fresh from baking. She had violet eyes that almost perfectly matched Rebekah’s, and a swishing, fluffy tail with a grey-black tip. There was almost always an overflowing, and sometimes toothy smile on her face, especially whenever she looked at her husband, and now their daughter as well. Jackal smiles felt fake to most mammals, everyone’s instincts telling them it felt like _too much_. It was just as much a common issue as other unique species traits such as hyena laughs or caracal voices, and Jamie’s own smile certainly fit into the distinctive jackal grin category. But, for Max . . . that instinctual assumption was long since gone, buried by the sickeningly heartwarming truth of just how real Jamie’s smile was.

Jamie’s teeth almost broke through to visibility when she caught sight of them after walking in. Max was closer so she grabbed ahold of him first, the small stack of papers she held slapping against his back as she flung her arms around him. They were about the same height, so she never had any trouble rubbing her muzzle and cheek against his, and she surely did just as much right then. Max embraced her back, obviously, squeezing the uniformed canine in his own large-pawed arms.

“ _MY_ sleepy kitty.” Jamie’s heart compelled her to mutter adoringly while she clung on to him. She knew Rebekah was there also, and every bit intended for their daughter to receive her own snuggly sweetjackal hug.

The moment she let go of Max, Jamie turned and lowered herself down to Rebekah’s level with a mother’s smile, one that no mammal could dare call fake. And she began to sing softly to the tune of My Only Sunshine.

“And it’s my sweet—heart,  
Little Rebe—kah.  
Who shares my same—eyes,  
Who’s here to—stay.  
And everyone—knows,  
How much we love—her.  
And just, want to hug her all day.”

Ever since Jamie had first made it up it had never failed to lift and brighten Rebekah’s face, and it certainly didn’t fail now. Even though approaching ten might have been the usual point at which most children would start considering themselves too old for things of the sort, Rebekah clearly thought just the opposite.

The moment she was done with her soft little tune, Jamie threw her arms around their daughter, who had no chance of lifting up her arms fast enough to match. Her mother had always been careful never to squeeze her as hard as she sometimes did Max, so Rebekah was still able to squirm her arms free afterward to hug her mother back. While she hugged Rebekah, Jamie flapped the set of papers in Max’s direction a few times, until he reached out and took them from her. And Max would have started at least quickly looking over them right then and there, if not for noticing another signal he was being given. Jamie was holding the same paw out in his direction, now opening and closing it repeatedly at a rapid pace. 

Max knew what it was an indicator for, so he set the thin stack of papers quietly down on the pool table and knelt down himself to complete the family hug his wife was silently demanding. He grabbed ahold of them both, with Jamie then slightly leaning into him while still brushing her fluffy cheek against the top of their daughter’s head. 

It took a second or two for the sound to become audible enough to be distinct while still staying relatively quiet. Both he and Jamie noticed, Rebekah was apparently so happy . . . she was purring.


End file.
